My friend Susan Davies, who has died aged 97, spent many years working as a nurse, both before and after raising a family.
She began her training aged 16 at Bradford fever hospital shortly before the outbreak of the second world war, and soon afterwards moved to the Middlesex hospital in London. On one occasion her ward was bombed; on another she was attending a concert in the Royal Albert Hall when the air raid sirens began to blare out. The concert continued notwithstanding.
Susan found herself increasingly critical of war, and eventually became a Quaker. In the 1980s she visited Greenham Common to protest against nuclear weapons, and raised money from Quakers to buy tents for the peace camp. She also travelled with two friends to Russia under the aegis of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom. When they met with dignitaries there, they were asked which of them was the leader, and Susan took glee in saying they didn’t have one.
The daughter of Fred Smith, a blacksmith, and his wife, Olive (nee Trout), Susan was born in a village near Bradford. Although she did well at school she had to leave at 14 to go out to work. Her first job, as a doffer (a textile worker), was not to her liking and, despite some opposition from her father, she decided to become a nurse.
In 1946 she married Dudley Davies, a police officer. While their two children were growing up, Susan ran a hotel in Bloomsbury before returning to nursing. In the 1960s, following Dudley’s postings, the family moved to Reading and in the 70s to Lincoln, where Susan tended to elderly relatives. I first met her in Lincoln at the local Quaker meeting house.
On her retirement, she studied for a history degree with the Open University and wrote Quakerism in Lincolnshire: An Informal History (1989). She lived with minimal possessions and was clear about her priorities. As she wrote in her book, she wanted “tolerance between nations and peoples … peace … freedom from hunger in the world and … the preservation of the environment of planet Earth”.
She hoped for a fairer and better world, and did all she could to empower the people she met. A loyal friend, she welcomed me into her home come what may. Despite our 46-year age difference, we had plenty to talk about.
An exceptionally intelligent, cultured and spirited person with a love of classical music and jazz, in different life circumstances Susan might have made an excellent politician. The last time I saw her she was still giving me advice about speaking out. “If you think it’s right, and it doesn’t hurt anybody, then say it,” she said.
Dudley predeceased her. She is survived by their son, Christopher, and daughter, Susanne.
